My apartment smelled of freshly chopped onions and baking bread earlier… now it’s nag champa.
Maybe going to swing by –
Discount Train & Hobby
211 E. Oakland Park Blvd.
Ft. Lauderdale, FL 33334
tomorrow… look for more terrain and paints to play with…perhaps find a way to prevent the odd Newt-hair from landing on freshly painted stuff. I can Newt-proof… but his hair turns up in the darndest places. I’m hoping that they have some decent o-scale models and maybe some more mixable acrylic paints.
Hm! Rachel’s now a successful photographer and has been shown internationally. I’m delighted… she’s quite a talent, and I’m sure she deserves the kudos. I still have some of her slides here…maybe I’ll scan them in at work and post them here, if we still have the capacity. I haven’t heard from her since ’98ish. It looks like she’s got a nice little life building with a guy / pet / home / marriage.
Newt shook off his “parachute-bag” just before the piccie was taken. He was on a big tear around the house, with the crinkly-toy in tow. you can see it starting to float to the ground behind him.
You are walking down a cracked inner city sidewalk. It is morning, slowly warming into a sunny day. You look up and yonder along the cement you see someone walking toward you. You are surprised to have perceived someone so far away. But, you keep walking, expecting nothing more than a friendly nod as you pass. He gets closer. You see he has a slight limp and shuffling gait, though he seems to be moving quickly. He is closer–a torn and stained suit jacket with tattered pants and bare feet. Closer–a mottled green and purple face, and slightly yellowed skin pinched back along his cheekbones. You and he are fifty yards apart. You, and an undead mockery of what was once alive are twenty yards apart. You approach on the notably empty path, no traffic on the road to the side. You nod. He waves, a pinky finger hanging loosely from a broken knuckle, and passes.